The Sex of Six Different Men
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: Sex parts of my story The Same Situation of Six Different Men. Pairings Johnlock, Mormor, and Mystrade.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Warning for anal sex and rimming, but really is there any other way to do it?**_

* * *

Sometimes they have late nights. There are criminals that won't just stand still, won't just let them take him or her into custody, won't just _stop running._

Tonight is one of those nights and sadly Sherlock is the fastest man on the police force (he's not even on the police force so that really says something). He keeps up with the guy and eventually does catch him, of course he does catch him in an alley after jumping off the second story of a building.

It's not a long jump, Sherlock's done it before, but he was younger then and all of his joints were properly functioning. This time, he only manages to stop the guy because once he lands, he immediately collapses over the guy because his legs buckle under him.

Lestrade and the next guy catch up to him and John practically carries him to a cab and supports his aching body all the way home.

"When we get inside," John whispers in his ear, "Get undressed and get in bed."

Sherlock lifts his head. "Why?"

"I'm going to make you feel better."

Sherlock does as he's told. He takes his clothes off and lays in bed, on his back. He drops his limbs in every direction on the bed, just wherever feels comfortable.

John comes into the room in just his underwear. They're black. Sherlock smiles.

"Makin' me feel better, huh?" He feels lightheaded and silly from the pain killer John gave him. He wiggles his lower body. His cock flops from side to side.

"That stuff works quick," John notes. He's shocked Sherlock's body even took it. He laughs at Sherlock's silly expression. He laughs again when Sherlock flops his cock again.

"John, I've been high many, many times in my life—"

"I'm choosing to ignore that—"

"But never have I _ever _felt this fantastic."

"Yes, well," John grabs oil from the nightstand and drops a stream on his hand. "Let's just hope you feel the same tomorrow, 'k love?"

Sherlock's still on his back, so John starts with his shoulders and neck. He presses his hand into Sherlock's collar bone and presses his thumbs bellow the bone. He rubs the skin there. Sherlock stretches his neck underneath John so John will rub it, too. John leans down and takes advantage of his stretched neck; he licks his jugular vain, then takes the white skin into his mouth and sucks, bites, kisses until Sherlock moans and there is a sure bruise there.

"Your neck hurt?" John asks, sucking just below Sherlock's ear.

"Nothing hurts, John."

"Oh geez. I should not have given that pill to you."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmno," Sherlock moans, "It's brilliant." He smiles.

John smiles down at him. He moves to Sherlock's arms. He rubs his biceps and moves to his chest. He rubs Sherlock's skin there, then pinches the pale man's darker nipples.

"Ouch," Sherlock playfully says.

John chuckles. He bends and takes Sherlock's now hard nipples into his mouth. He traps it and flicks his tongue at it; hearing Sherlock hiss he does it to the other one. He finishes there and kisses the center of Sherlock's chest then moves.

He moves down Sherlock's body, first with his forearms and wrists, then ribs and belly. He carefully runs his fingertips over Sherlock's stomach, just under his bellybutton.

"Tickles," Sherlock says. He laughs.

John pours another patch of oil on his hand, then happens the notice the oil is flavored. He gets an evil grin. He runs a finger down Sherlock's lower abdomen again, then Sherlock giggles. Then John runs the tip of his tongue back up Sherlock's belly and dips his tongue into Sherlock's bellybutton. Sherlock squirms underneath him. He moans again. He wants to throw his hands onto the back of John's head, but he feels too numb.

"Do that again," Sherlock whispers.

John smiles and pulls away from Sherlock. He settles himself between the man's long legs. "Not yet," he says. He rubs the freshly squeezed oil onto his other hand, then rubs Sherlock's left thigh.

Sherlock hisses.

"What?" John asks. He briefly pauses.

"Aches."

"Sorry baby," John rubs lighter. "It'll hurt tomorrow."

Sherlock's head rolls to the side and he harshly sighs. Unexpectedly, he feels John's lips touch the inside of his thigh. He lightly spreads his thighs.

John smiles. He finishes with the left thigh, then moves to Sherlock's right. Sherlock hisses again, but John presses on. He kisses that thigh too. He sees Sherlock smile.

Next he rubs Sherlock's knees. He knows those will hurt Sherlock most tomorrow, Sherlock's got knee problems anyway. There's not much he can do but rub Sherlock. Then he rubs Sherlock's shins, calves, ankles, feet, toes. He takes his time, and when he's finished he licks up Sherlock's right leg, to his hip, then stomach, then chest. He lays over Sherlock and tongues the man's mouth open. He finds Sherlock's hands and takes Sherlock's in his own. Sherlock squeezes when John bites his bottom lip.

"Oh John," Sherlock moans as John leaves his mouth and tongues his ear. "What are you doing to me?"

"Slowly building your orgasm," John states.

Sherlock rolls his hips up into John's and squeezes John's hand. He moans, too.

"Like that?" John asks, licking the spot on his neck he'd just licked before Sherlock moaned.

"No—I mean yes—not your tongue—your words," Sherlock's words are broken up with one thrust of his cock into John's hip. "So blunt—"

John smiles. "Oh, yeah? How about I fuck your tight arse to orgasm, huh Sherlock?" John thrusts his cock into Sherlock's hip. Sherlock mimics and moans. "Like that?"

"Yes, John, yes!"

John smiles again. He slowly thrusts against Sherlock and licks Sherlock's lips. Sherlock's tongue darts out and they meet before both disappearing back into Sherlock's mouth.

"You want to-"

"Yes, anything!"

John smiles. "You want to turn over so I can get your backside?" he asks.

Sherlock opens his eyes to see John pull away. John sits back on his knees and motions with his finger for Sherlock to turn over. Sherlock whimpers.

"Trust me, baby," John says, grabbing Sherlock's hips and flipping him himself. "It'll be so good."

Sherlock lands on his front and grinds into the mattress twice, presenting his arse for John's enjoyment. John doesn't lose track of the mission: make Sherlock feel good.

John's hands go into Sherlock's hair and he rubs Sherlock scalp. That's something Sherlock always enjoys, so he moans when John presses his fingers harder to his head.

"Nice?" John asks.

"You have no idea."

John moves down, gently rubbing his neck, then fingers his spine; he counts the bumps. "You need to eat more, love," John says. His hands move their way down Sherlock's body, passing what he thinks is the important bit and moving straight to the back of Sherlock's thighs, then down to his calves.

When he finishes with Sherlock's legs, he repositions himself between Sherlock's legs again so that he too is on his stomach behind Sherlock. He grabs the oil from next to Sherlock and opens the cap.

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock asks.

John's not even sure what he's doing until he's done it, and that's pour the flavored liquid straight from the bottle to the round top of Sherlock's arse. He watches the drop, as if mesmerized, as it slowly trickles down the round hump. John licks the trail back up Sherlock's arse and does it again. It tastes so good; the oil is strawberry flavored, but what gets him is the Sherlock flavor. Salt, body wash, natural male musk, they're all there. John's mouth waters.

As if hearing his thoughts, Sherlock spreads his legs more. He wants so badly for John to tongue him. It's not something they do often, basically for the sheer special desire they feel each time it's done. They don't want that amazing feeling to get old. But Sherlock wants it now.

As if hearing _his _thoughts, John drops liquid onto the top of Sherlock's cleft. He watches it run down, a tiny bit slipping between cheeks but most of it being unable to do so. Without thinking (not that he'd stop himself), John licks up Sherlock's cleft, from the bottom to top. The feel of his tongue being guarded by the cheeks of Sherlock's arse is fantastic. He wants more.

As does Sherlock. When John's tongue touches him, Sherlock attempts to spread his legs more to allow John better access to his hole. With no such luck, Sherlock grabs hold of the sheets under him and holds them tight. He wants to push back onto John's tongue and John's tongue hasn't even really _done anything _yet.

John licks his lips and lets his tongue regain moisture. Then he spreads Sherlock open with one hand. When he finally sees the spot he's wanted this whole time, he doesn't even realize he grinds against the bed below him. As if it were him, Sherlock does the same.

"Oh, baby," John babbles.

Sherlock shivers as John's breath breaches his hole. "More," he says.

John takes the oil one last time and drops two drops over Sherlock's hole. It's cold, Sherlock involuntarily clenches. John, as he has done this whole time, chases the drop and licks warm moisture over Sherlock's closed hole. Sherlock moans and grabs the sheets.

"More," he says again.

The tip John's tongue breaches Sherlock. He laps at Sherlock over and over, every few strokes pressing his tongue into the hole. Of course his tongue will never reach Sherlock where he wants it most, but even here it's not as deep as it can be. _It'll take more_, John thinks. He takes the oil and drops some onto his index finger, then slowly and gently presses it into Sherlock.

Sherlock hisses. "Just keep going," he says when he automatically rejects John.

"I'll take my time, I've got nowhere better to be," John replies. He slowly circles around Sherlock's rim and lets Sherlock adjust. Of course it's not instant, he does it many many times. Finally Sherlock's body agrees and lets John press into him to the second knuckle. As he circles around inside Sherlock, John licks at his cleft and kisses his cheeks.

"More," Sherlock says again.

John complies, slowly pressing his whole finger into Sherlock.

Feeling inside Sherlock is something John will never get used to. Sure, it's amazingly good and incredibly hot, but it's so intimate John can't ever get used to it. It's that he's the only person that will ever do this to Sherlock, the only person that can.

He rubs inside Sherlock as Sherlock moans his approval. After letting Sherlock adjust, John finds Sherlock's prostate.

"Ohgodohgod," Sherlock says.

Another thing John will never get used to is how quickly and easily he can pleasure Sherlock. With one brush of his fingertip to Sherlock's prostate, one swipe of tongue to rim, John's got Sherlock in pieces beneath him.

"Good?" John asks.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," is all Sherlock can say.

His body is more relaxed, John notes, so he begins to thrust. Slowly. Gently. He pulls his finger out of Sherlock and pushes it back in with such finesse Sherlock's sure this is how he 'took care of people' in the military.

"More," Sherlock says, trying to push back onto John's finger. John's been thrusting in and out of him for what seems like eternity now and Sherlock needs more.

John pulls his hand away to apply more oil, then slowly and gently places two fingers into Sherlock. Slow. Achingly slow. Again, Sherlock tries to push back but this time John uses his tongue to push him back onto the bed.

John takes his time with two fingers. He circles Sherlock's prostate and has Sherlock meeting each thrust, but he takes his time before adding a third finger. Sherlock's so ready he takes the third finger almost no problem, but John does it extremely slowly anyway.

"Faster," Sherlock pleas as John takes his time thrusting his fingers in and out of John.

"I'm trying to be gentle," John says.

Sherlock groans in frustration. "I don't want gentle, John!" He lifts his hips off the bed and roughly pushes back onto John's hand. "Just fuck me now!"

John grinds into the mattress. Sherlock could say the word fuck in any context and John will probably get a bit hard. It's just such a dirty word when it comes from Sherlock.

John doesn't wait for another invitation. He thrusts his fingers in and out of Sherlock to make sure Sherlock's ready, then sits back on his knees and pulls his underwear down to his thighs. No use wasting time getting them off. Sherlock rears back so his arse is in the air and his head is in his arms on the bed. John grabs the oil and slicks himself up well.

"Ready?" he asks.

Sherlock doesn't answer, instead he pushes his arse more towards John.

John takes hold of Sherlock's hip with one hand and lines himself up with the other. He and Sherlock cry out in unison as the head of John's cock gets pushed into Sherlock.

"Easy, easy," John repeats, stroking Sherlock's hip.

"More," Sherlock says.

John slowly pushes in until he's balls deep in his love. He pauses and lets Sherlock adjust. The tightness is something he'll never get used to, as well.

Instead of telling him to move, Sherlock pulls up and pushes back, thrusting John into himself. He moans. John watches his cock enter Sherlock over and over by the control of Sherlock. The sight is unbelievably sexy, but not more sexy than the sounds coming from Sherlock. Moans of satisfaction are pouring from Sherlock's perfect mouth.

"Come on," Sherlock frustratingly says. It's far to slow for him. "I said rough, didn't I?"

"Sorry for taking into account that you jumped off a building today," John says, taking hold of Sherlock's hips and beginning to thrust himself.

"There, there John!" Sherlock shouts. "Harder—nngghhhh—faster!"

John tries but the harder he tries, the more Sherlock shouts to go harder or faster. He doubles over Sherlock and grabs hold of the top of the headboard that's just below his eyelevel. With this leverage, he fucks Sherlock hard and fast like Sherlock wants.

"There it is, John!" Sherlock shouts. He reaches between his legs and grabs at his own cock, which is leaking everywhere with precome. John wants to lick it. "Almost, John—" Sherlock says. He moans. The bed creaks.

With the sounds of Sherlock and the sound of the bed, John knows he will be done as soon as Sherlock clamps around him. He anticipates how fucking amazing it will feel soon. The thought makes him thrust harder, hitting Sherlock's prostate dead on.

Sherlock can't make noise it feels so good. His mouth forms a perfect circle and his eyes tighten shut. With five perfect thrusts from John's cock, Sherlock comes all over the sheets below him. He shouts as he does so. "JohnJohnJohn—" he shouts.

"Oh god, Sherlock!" John shouts back as Sherlock clamps tightly around his cock. It almost feels too good to come, but John grips the headboard so tight his knuckles turn white and he pushes up into Sherlock as deep as he can, coming far into Sherlock.

When he pulsing stops and John can hear and see again, he lets go of the headboard and wraps an arm around Sherlock's chest. He catches Sherlock before he falls. He presses his face into Sherlock's curls. He kisses the back of Sherlock's head. "I've got you," he says as he pulls out and lowers himself and Sherlock onto the bed.

Sherlock's arms wrap around John's arm as John pulls him onto the bed. He shivers because his skin is sensitive. He takes deep breaths and manages to balance his heart rate.

"Are you ok?" John asks.

Sherlock nods.

"I'm sorry," John says. "I think I got carried away."

Sherlock vigorously shakes his head. "Perfect," he says.

John nuzzles his face as deep into Sherlock's head it can go. "I love you," he whispers.

Sherlock's arms tighten around John. "I love you, too."

The next morning Sherlock wakes with the aches and pains he expected to have from jumping off the building, plus a few more aches that were _so _worth it.

* * *

**_A/N: Thank you for reading. This story is the first of many, I think, that will match my _Same Situations of Six Different Men_. This chapter is the sex left out of _Chapter 59._ I decided to do a separate thread that will involve the sex I leave out of the main thread. I suggest reading both, but that's just me of course! Anyway, please review. _**


	2. Chapter 2

_When they get home they stumble into the flat while snagging messy kisses from each other and pulling clothes off. _

"_Did you have a good time tonight?" Sebastian asks while pushing Jim to the bedroom._

"_Yeah, I did. Thank you."_

"_No, no," Sebastian pulls Jim's jacket off and untucks his shirt. "Thank you."_

Sebastian pushes Jim onto the bed and straddles Jim's hips. He lays his body over Jim's and plunders the man's mouth with his own tongue. Sometimes he craves that slick slide of tongue and that's all; and right now it's enough. He moans and grinds his lower body against Jim's. He feels Jim's growing erection through two layers of underwear and pants.

Jim quickly flips Sebastian over so Sebastian's on his back. He holds Sebastian's neck while he kisses Sebastian's lips. He soon leaves off Sebastian's lips to lick a trail to his ear. As he rims his ear, Sebastian moans and bucks his hips against Jim. Jim smiles and bites down on Sebastian's earlobe.

"Off," Sebastian pants. He pulls at Jim's tie and soon has it loose enough to pull off Jim's head.

"I really want to take off your clothes," Jim says, "But I want the bowtie to stay."

Sebastian gives him a sly smile and pushes up so Jim's sitting back on his heels, unbuttoning his own shirt, and Sebastian's sitting up. Sebastian skillfully maneuvers his shirt collar from under his bowtie. The bowtie doesn't come undone and Sebastian begins unbuttoning his shirt, all the while smiling at Jim.

"Oh, god," Jim says, pulling his shirt off and attacking Sebastian again.

Jim kisses Sebastian's lips, then chin, then jaw, then slowly continues kissing his way down Sebastian's now bare chest. His shirt's still on his arms, but he doesn't mind. He digs his hands in Jim's hair and moans as Jim circles his tongue around one nipple, then the other.

"Jim," Sebastian hoarsely murmurs.

"I haven't even done anything yet," Jim says. He laughs. He leaves off Sebastian's chest and kisses down his stomach. He sucks the bit of skin beneath his bellybutton. Sebastian arches into his lips. "Such control I have over you," Jim says, laughing. He undoes Sebastian's belt and tugs on his pants. Sebastian lifts his hips off the bed and Jim pulls them down and flings them over his shoulder.

What was once frantic turns slow and deliberate once Sebastian's pants are on the floor. Jim lowers himself between Sebastian's legs and gets comfortable. Sebastian watches as one of Jim's fingers carefully rubs the slit of his cock through his underwear, and bites at the shaft. He breathes hot over Sebastian and Sebastian squirms.

"Earlier," Jim whispers, "In the bathroom at the wedding…and the…" he bites Sebastian's balls. "…the bowtie on your neck, remember? Mmmm, you almost came just by me sucking your neck for a few minutes. But you didn't come until I stuffed my hand in your pants and stroked you. Came in your pants like a dirty sixteen year old. Bet you haven't done that since then, huh?"

Sebastian doesn't hear Jim talk like that ever, so when Jim does talk like that, Sebastian knows he's got Jim out of his head.

Jim sniffs the head of Sebastian's cock. "I can smell it, you know. Smell you. Smell what we did earlier." He licks the spot where Sebastian came earlier. "Mmmmmmm," he moans. Sebastian moans, too.

Jim sits back on his heels and undoes his belt, then stands up on his knees and pulls them down. Sebastian sits up and though it's a weird angle, he pulls Jim's underwear down and takes Jim's cock head into his mouth. He sucks hard. Jim digs his hands into Sebastian's hair, moans loud, and thrusts his hips.

For a few minutes he fucks Sebastian's mouth, moaning loud and nearly coming just because he can see that damn bowtie. He pulls Sebastian's head off him and Sebastian lays back down. He wiggles his hips to indicate to Jim to pull his underwear off.

Instead, Jim resettles between Sebastian's legs and lays himself over Sebastian, resting his cock against Sebastian's clothed cock. He thrusts once and moans. Sebastian's hands find Jim's arse and he squeezes tight, pulling Jim's cheeks apart. He circles a finger around Jim's hole, but since he's not lubed he doesn't push in. He just circles the sensitive skin.

Jim moans as Sebastian touches him and thrusts his hips against Sebastian. Jim licks Sebastian's lips, then licks down Sebastian's jaw to his neck. He finds the sensitive spot on Sebastian's neck, just below the line of the bowtie, and sucks. Sebastian bucks his hips up against Jim; Jim sucks harder.

Jim sucks and licks at Sebastian's neck, and soon Sebastian is pulling hard at Jim and bucking his spread legs as hard as he can, pressing his cock as hard against Jim's as possible.

Sebastian can't stop thinking about anything but how unbelievably hot this all is. Jim fully naked, Jim's tongue and mouth marking his neck, his finger at Jim's hole. The only thing he wishes for is to feel Jim's cock bare against his.

As if reading his mind, Jim pulls up just a bit, enough to pull Sebastian's cock from his underwear. He spits twice on his hand and gathers both their cocks together in a loose fist. He thrusts against Sebastian's cock and they both moan helplessly.

Sebastian's not far, Jim can tell, so Jim squeezes his hand tighter and Sebastian ruts harder. Sebastian's vision begins to go and he feels hot all over, then suddenly Jim's thumb swipes against his slit and he comes all over Jim's hand and his own stomach.

He can feel Jim continue to thrust against him, but once he feels too sensitive, Jim can tell and lets go. Sebastian opens his eyes and looks down to see Jim frantically jerking himself. Jim pulls off Sebastian enough that Sebastian strains to latch on to Jim's neck, but he does. Jim moans once Sebastian's licks his pulse point and squeezes his arse, then Sebastian can feel Jim come on his stomach, too.

As soon as his orgasm is finished riding out, Jim falls onto the bed next to Sebastian. They both lay staring at the ceiling.

"Wow," Sebastian says.

"Yeah," Jim replies.

"Can I take this off? It's starting to itch."

Jim looks at Sebastian and bursts into laughter. "No, leave it on forever."

Sebastian laughs and pulls it off. He rolls over and holds onto Jim's side.

"Good?" Jim asks.

"Great."

**_*The end of _Chapter 62_ of _The Same Situations of Six Different Men_._**


	3. Chapter 3

_Sherlock presses light kisses to John's lips. "You can't stay mad at me."_

_ John smiles again but quickly frowns. "Yes I can."_

_ "Well, what if I told you," Sherlock licks a stripe up the center of John's lips, "That I'm not wearing underwear?"_

_ "Damnit," John murmurs, smiling wide this time, flipping Sherlock onto his back, and resting between Sherlock's legs._

_ "I told you, John. You can't stay mad at me forever."_

_ "I probably could if I wanted to," John replies, kissing Sherlock's lips and feeling Sherlock smile against him. _

John kisses Sherlock's mouth open, moaning when Sherlock does open his mouth and swirls his tongue with John's. Sometimes that's enough for John, feeling Sherlock's tongue on his and Sherlock's body react for only him. But tonight he wants more.

He pulls off Sherlock's mouth, Sherlock reluctant to give up John's tongue so his head pulls off the pillow when John pulls his mouth away.

"Mmm," Sherlock moans, following John's head. "Your tongue, give it back."

"I have other plans," John says, licking Sherlock's jaw and sucking Sherlock's jugular vein into his mouth. John always wants to badly to mark Sherlock, to claim him, but he never does in fear of how unprofessional and unclassy they look. _Too fucking bad, _John thinks, sucking Sherlock's skin. The blood rises to the surface and Sherlock lets out a loud groan.

John sucks his way down Sherlock. Collarbones first, then sensitive nipple that make Sherlock pull John's hair. He pulls off Sherlock and looks down between them.

"You're lookin' good there, love," John says, practically drooling over the other man's erection.

Sherlock pushes on John's head. "Shut up, John," he says, pushing again.

John licks his palm twice and sends it south, gripping Sherlock's cock with rough fingers. Sherlock hisses and moans. John sucks Sherlock's left nipple again while Sherlock scratches John's shoulders.

"You didn't tell me about the case," John says when he pulls of Sherlock's chest.

"I'm a little busy," Sherlock replies.

"Too busy to talk about a case? Wow, you are enjoying yourself," John smiles and kisses Sherlock's neck. "I'm flattered." He tightens his grip on Sherlock's cock and jerks harder.

"Shut up, John. Just fuck me already."

"Not yet, I want to get you off first," John says, "That way I can take my time making you come again."

Sherlock smiles and arches his back when John rubs his thumb over the slit in Sherlock's cock. His smile quickly fades into a round, soundless mouth.

John sucks on the spot just below Sherlock's right ear. He moans when he feels Sherlock's cock pulse in his hand. "God I love this," John whispers in Sherlock's ear before tonguing it.

Sherlock fingers tighten into John's shoulders and John knows he's close. John wraps his free arm around Sherlock's waist and strokes harder.

"God, John," Sherlock babbles, "Gonna….ughhhh," he moans.

John presses his forehead into Sherlock's face and licks every inch of Sherlock's neck he can reach. Sherlock's fingernails dig into John's shoulder and he comes into John's hand. His whole body tightens and John can feel him jerk everywhere.

When Sherlock's finished, John sits back on his heels and licks his own fingers clean. Sherlock watches with a lazy smile on his face.

"You love that, don't you?" Sherlock asks.

"What? Licking your cum off my fingers?"

Sherlock laughs. "No, making me fall apart in your arms."

"Oh god," John replies, climbing over Sherlock into the rarely-used nightstand and pulling out lube. "I love it." He kisses Sherlock while opening the bottle between them and blindly squirting a good amount onto his hand. He pulls back and lets Sherlock spread his legs. John positions himself and circles his middle finger around Sherlock's closed hole. "You never told me about the case," John states.

"Again, John, little busy."

"You're not doing anything but laying there."

"I want to hear now," John says, lightly pressing his finger into Sherlock.

"I—mmmm," Sherlock says, biting his lip. He breathes and adjusts while John pauses and watches him. "I'm still busy," he says, indicating to John that he can continue.

John thrusts the finger slowly in and out of Sherlock. He watches and feels Sherlock adjust to his finger. When it's ready, John presses that finger all the way in and rubs Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock throws his head back and grabs the sheets.

John pulls his finger away from the sensitive spot and works on stretching Sherlock instead. "Tell me about the case," he says.

"John, I really doubt you want to hear about a dead woman while you're—mmmmm," John rubs Sherlock's prostate again. "Inside me," Sherlock adds.

"I want to hear and I know you want to tell me," John says.

"Ok. Well," Sherlock starts, "There was a woman—"John rubs Sherlock's prostate, "Mmmmm—and she died the end."

John laughs and adds another finger. Sherlock hisses. "It's ok, baby," John kisses Sherlock's knee. "Keep going."

Sherlock smiles and grabs the sheets when John touches his prostate with both fingers. "Well if you want a story you need to stop—mmm!"

"Stop what?" John thrusts his fingers over Sherlock's prostate six times before stopping.

"That!" Sherlock shouts, letting go of the sheets and relaxing against the bed.

"You want me to stop?" John asks.

"NO!" Sherlock shouts. He digs his heels into the mattress and presses down against John's fingers, seeking the touch he needs. John lets him have it for a minute before withdrawing his fingers and applying more lube.

"Tell me about the woman," John says, inserting three fingers into Sherlock.

"She was found dead at the house in the backyard after you left," Sherlock says in one breath as John inserts three fingers to their middle knuckle.

"Sssshhh," John says, "Relax, love. Tell me more."

"She was killed with a blunt instrument," Sherlock says, slower this time. "It hit her spine and she was out."

"What object?" John asks, watching himself pull his fingers in and out of Sherlock.

"Mmmmm—" Sherlock says when John presses the digits all the way into him. "—Lacrosse stick," he adds.

"That hard? Must've been one hell of a hit."

John presses against Sherlock's prostate again, very very lightly. Sherlock cries out in frustration and tries to push back, but John holds his knee in place.

"Some of those sticks are made from titanium or stronger metal," Sherlock says, "Once—mmm—once a stick was broken in half during a match from being hit against another player," Sherlock's not sure he's making sense anymore, neither is John.

"Wow," John says, pressing again to Sherlock's prostate. This time he gives Sherlock a rough stroke and Sherlock's cock springs to it's full erect size again. John smiles and continues fingering Sherlock's prostate, then leans down to suck Sherlock's balls.

"Oh, god—mmmm!" Sherlock shouts. He digs his fingers into John's hair and pulls John off him. "You're going to make me come again," Sherlock says.

John smiles and pulls his fingers almost all the way out of Sherlock. He reaches for the lube that was abandoned next to Sherlock's hip and single handedly applies an ample amount to his cock. "Ready?" he asks.

"Just fuck me, John!" Sherlock shouts.

John smirks. "Hold on," he says, before removing his hand and shoving his cock in in one go.

Even with the preparation, Sherlock isn't expecting John's rough play. He shouts with slight pain, then with pleasure when the head of John's cock finds Sherlock's prostate in one thrust.

"You—mmm," Sherlock begins, "You made me wait, John."

John closes his eyes and thrusts. "Yes, yes," he babbles, thrusting harder with a steady rhythm. He wants this to last and he knows he won't have any trouble.

Sherlock, however, has other plans. John made him wait, John played with him, so John must pay. Sherlock swiftly pushes John off of him, pushes John onto the bed, and straddles John's hips before John can open his eyes. Once his eyes are open, though, he's treated to the site of Sherlock lowering himself onto John's cock.

John strokes Sherlock's hips and closes his eyes, feeling Sherlock's arse against his legs.

"You made me wait," Sherlock says again. He wastes no time in this position and quickly sets a fast pace of fucking himself on John's cock. He moans and rides John.

"That's it, Sherlock," John whispers, "Ride me—nnggghh." John opens his eyes to see Sherlock leaning back, his palms on John's thighs, his cock slapping against John's stomach with each thrust. "Shit," John whispers, grabbing for Sherlock's cock and stroking faster than Sherlock's thrusting.

"Oh, oh god," Sherlock shouts, "John!" he cries as he comes again.

This time John feels him spasm inside, and with that John thrusts up once into Sherlock as hard as he can and comes deep within Sherlock's body.

Sherlock falls off John as they mutually come off their orgasms.

"That was," John says.

"Fantastic," Sherlock finishes.

"Jesus, Sherlock," John pants. "I think you killed me."

"Mmm," Sherlock agrees, "What a pleasant way to die."

"Yes, much more pleasant than a lacrosse stick."

Sherlock laughs. "I never said she was killed by the lacrosse stick."

John looks at Sherlock, confused. "Then what did that have to do with the case?"

Sherlock shrugs. "What did the case have to do with fucking me?"

John laughs and lunges at Sherlock, attacking the younger man's lips with his own. After that they fall into a very, very restful sleep together.

**_*This is from the middle (Couple 2) of _Chapter 67 _of _The Same Situations of Six Different Men, _by me. : ) _**


	4. Chapter 4: Mystrade Valentine's Day

_***Happy Valentine's Day! I've never written Mystrade porn, so here it is. Hope you enjoy! **_

Greg takes it into his own hands to plan holidays for himself and Mycroft. Mostly he just thinks Mycroft will forget, but Greg also wants things to go in a very specific way and he wants to make sure everything goes well.

Last year was kind of awful. Greg's horrible cooking didn't even get tasted because Mycroft left so quickly, but Greg recalls the sex they had that evening was amongst the best they'd ever had. Sitting at his desk at work, he grins and thinks about that night. His phone rings as his memories get to the good part, so he shakes the thought from his head and answers his phone.

On his way home, Greg decides that he wants do last year's Valentine's Day all over again, minus the poor cooking. Basically, Greg decides that he and Mycroft are going to have absolutely mind blowing sex.

But Gregory Lestrade is a romantic, so he quickly amends his plans by thinking it's got to be sensual. It's got to be love, not just sex. He wants to show Mycroft how much he loves him by using his body, not just his words.

The next day, which is Valentine's Day, Greg takes off work early so he can go shopping for his supplies. He decides that chocolate covered strawberries are an absolute necessity, also chocolate sauce, whipped cream, the tube of cherry lube that looked too enticing to pass up, and champagne.

Greg gets home before Mycroft and showers, then gets his supplies ready.

Mycroft arrives home shortly after. He greets Greg by hugging him tight. "Are we going to dinner?" he asks, knowing how much Greg loves Valentine's Day.

"No, I thought we'd…skip dinner," he says, pressing his body as tightly to Mycroft's as possible.

Mycroft slightly frowns. "But…I'm hungry."

Greg grins. "Don't worry. Your stomach will be satisfied," he says. He walks backwards, pulling Mycroft with him to the bedroom.

Once there, Greg begins kissing Mycroft deeply while pulling Mycroft's clothes off. He starts with the tie, then his jacket, then the buttons on his shirt.

"This is hardly fair," Mycroft mutters as Greg strips him.

Greg smiles and pulls back enough for Mycroft to pull his shirt off over his head. Finally, both men are bare from the waist up and they stumble over to the bed.

"Champagne, my love?" Greg asks. He sits on the bed and pulls champagne out of the bucket. He pours Mycroft a glass and hands it to him.

Mycroft notices that there's another bucket sitting next to the bed. He peers into it and sees the chocolate sauce and whipped cream, then notices the strawberries on the nightstand. He cocks an eyebrow and gazes at Greg. "This is far better than dinner," he says.

Greg smiles. "Better get those clothes off, then."

Mycroft steps between Greg's spread legs. "Go ahead," he says, taking a sip of his champagne.

Greg glances up at him before redirecting his attention to Mycroft's belt. He gets finished with the belt, then unbuttons and unzips his trousers. Greg looks up at Mycroft again, this time giving Mycroft a wicked grin before barely pulling his trousers down and fishing Mycroft's cock out of his pants.

"Mmm," Mycroft murmurs, sipping his champagne and watching Greg.

Greg swallows Mycroft's cock in one motion. Mycroft's free hand migrate to the back of Greg's head as Greg's head bobs back and forth, easily sucking him into full hardness.

Greg pulls off with a low pop, his lips glistening with spit and precome.

"Take these off and lay down," Greg instructs, standing from the bed and removing his own trousers.

"What's the plan?" Mycroft asks, still curious about the food. His trousers come off and he lays on the bed as instructed.

Greg stares at Mycroft's naked form sprawled out on the bed. His gaze stops on Mycroft's hard and thick cock resting against his pelvis. "I'm going to make you come," Greg states, getting on the bed and laying over Mycroft. He reaches over onto the bedside table and pulls a strawberry into his mouth, then leans down and lets Mycroft bite the other half. Their lips touch for only a second, but Greg pulls away and smiles. "I'm going to make you come, then I'm going to fuck your brains out."

Mycroft smiles. "Always a good plan," he says.

Greg reaches onto the floor to pull the whipped cream and chocolate sauce out of the bucket. He stands on his knees between Mycroft's legs and begins drizzling the sticky stuff onto Mycroft's body. Mycroft props himself up on his elbows and watches.

"I'm not eating any of this," he states.

Greg grins and sprays a healthy amount of cream into his mouth, then leans over and pushes his tongue into Mycroft's mouth. The cream swirls around their tongues, leaving them both wanting more.

Greg watches a trail of chocolate fall slowly down Mycroft's pale chest. As it reaches Mycroft's belly button, he sucks at Mycroft's stomach and begins licking up the trail. He moans at the taste; so rich, chocolatey, and so Mycroft. He does it again, but the third time he takes the spray can of whipped cream and sprays it over Mycroft's nipples.

Mycroft watches as Greg's lips wrap around the tiny buds. Always a sensitive part of his body, this time it proves no different. Mycroft's head falls back and rolls around, and once Greg latches on to the second nipple, his whole body falls back against the bed.

Greg grins as he pulls away and decides he's had enough teasing. He sits back on his heels and sprays the cream and chocolate over Mycroft's cock.

"Cold," Mycroft mutters.

"Won't be soon, love."

Greg finishes with his creation and tosses the things to the floor, and when he returns he has his bottle of lube.

"What's that?" Mycroft asks, not recognizing the tube.

"Strawberry flavored lube," Greg replies.

Mycroft smiles, but it's soon replaced by an open mouthed groan as Greg licks the head of his cock.

"Fuck," Greg mutters, "That tastes amazing."

Mycroft smiles again, and again it's cut off by a loud groan when Greg licks up Mycroft's cock.

Greg continues licking and sucking at the cream and chocolate while simultaneously pouring lube onto his fingers.

Mycroft pants and moans. "Oh god, Greg," he whispers between moans, and when Greg pushes a slick finger into him, he moans.

Greg leaves off Mycroft's cock and instead sucks at Mycroft's balls. He sucks them clean and notices a trail of excess chocolate falling from the sac. He licks up the trail, first letting his tongue hit the strawberry lube he's rubbing into Mycroft.

"Mmmmmm," Greg moans loud. He pulls his mouth away. "Fuck, that tastes amazing."

Mycroft grins. "You'll have to let me try—oh god!" Greg sucks the head of Mycroft's cock into his mouth again while simultaneously adding a second finger.

Greg gives Mycroft a steady rhythm of sucking and fingering. He eagerly adds a third finger and begins rubbing Mycroft's prostate instead of moving in and out.

Mycroft's hands dig into Greg's hair as he nears his orgasm. "Almost—oh Greg—oh, oh—"

Greg feels Mycroft's cock getting harder, so he takes in Mycroft's cock as far into his mouth as he can and moans as loud as he can with a cock in his mouth.

Mycroft's groan drowns Greg out, no contest. He pulls Greg's hair and comes down Greg's throat, his hips stilling and his back arching.

When he calms, Greg delicately pulls off and pulls his fingers out, then sits back on his heels.

"Fuck," Mycroft mutters.

Greg grins. Mycroft never curses unless Greg does something really stupid or really amazing in bed. Greg falls over him, capturing Mycroft's lips and teasing them apart with his tongue.

Mycroft wraps his arms and legs around Greg, holding him as close as he can. When Greg pulls away to kiss his neck, Mycroft whispers, "I love you."

Greg smiles in Mycroft's face. "I love you, too," he says, sitting up again and grabbing the lube.

Mycroft takes the lube out of Greg's hand and pours it onto his own palm. He grins up at Greg as he takes Greg's cock in hand and rubs the lube on him. Greg's breath hitches and he lets out a deep moan. Already close to the edge, Greg grabs his wrist to stop him.

"Ready?" Greg asks, taking hold on his cock and leaning over Mycroft.

"Hang on," Mycroft mutters, pushing Greg back on his heels again. Instead of Greg laying over him, Mycroft throws his legs over Greg's shoulders.

Greg grins. He loves this position because he can pound into Mycroft as hard as he can.

"You said you were going to fuck my brains out," Mycroft says.

Greg smiles. "I did, didn't I?" He takes hold of his cock again and slowly pushes into Mycroft.

He delicately pushes in until his hips are pressed tight against Mycroft's arse. He pauses for a minute trying to adjust to the tight, wet heat surrounding him. "Fuck," he whispers, "So fucking good."

Mycroft bites his lip and takes hold of the sheets next to him.

Finally ready, Greg pulls his cock almost all the way out before snapping his hips back in. Both men cry out in a loud groan, and Greg wraps his arms around Mycroft's knees so he has a better grip of Mycroft's body. Adjusted once again, Greg pulls his cock out and pushes it back in with less finesse than the last thrust. Nonetheless, the head of his cock hits Mycroft's prostate, again making both men cry out.

Greg decides to skip the slow and sensual plan and instead decides to pound into Mycroft as if there's no tomorrow. His hips snap hard against Mycroft, making their skin slap together and join their cries of ecstasy echoing through the bedroom.

Greg quickly loses any thought and focuses on what he's feeling. Fucking Mycroft never gets old, at the moment he wants it hard and fast. He continues on and wishes it could last forever, but he knows he's going to burst any second.

"Fuck, fuck—" Greg hears Mycroft groan. "Gonna…again—"

Greg opens his eyes and looks down just in time to see Mycroft quickly stroking his second erection and come all over his hand and stomach. The sight sends Greg over the edge. He grips Mycroft tight, pushes his cock in as hard as he can, and comes with a loud sigh.

When the last of the orgasm fades, Greg opens his eyes again to see Mycroft smiling blissfully at the ceiling.

"Well done, Lestrade," Mycroft mutters.

Greg grins with triumph. He delicately lets Mycroft's legs down and pulls out, then falls over Mycroft and wrapping his arms around Mycroft's neck. Mycroft hugs Greg back.

"I fucking love you," Greg says between breathes.

Mycroft chuckles. "I fucking love you, too."

Greg kisses Mycroft's cheek and smiles. "You want to eat some sweets off me?" he asks.

"I've just come twice," Mycroft says. "I don't think I have it in me again."

Greg laughs. "Ok. We'll save it for another time."

Greg lifts his head from Mycroft's shoulder and kisses him. "I really, really love you," he says against Mycroft's lips.

"And I really love you, too."

Greg smiles and rolls off of Mycroft. "Lets take a nap, then I'll take you to dinner."

Mycroft turns onto his side with his back to Greg. "Deal," he says, closing his eyes with a smile on his face.

Valentine's Day turns out perfect once again.


End file.
